Why couldn’t this damn holiday be over already?

Joshua gave Max a final ruffle to his golden fur that was currently dusted in snow, then shooed the dog towards the garage where it could dry off without making a mess of the house. His father was at the mailbox down their long, flat driveway, peering into the small metal container with a contemplative look on his face. They had managed to ignore mail for the entire week of Joshua’s winter vacation, but apparently Christmas Eve had been the deciding factor for his dad to tackle the growing pile. He wanted to celebrate the holidays without having to think of any bills or thank-you notes.

Joshua’s nerves were at their breaking point. He couldn’t even blame it on the holiday. No, it had been a subdued affair this year. His dad knew college was crushing him and had insisted on just having the time for the two of them. The woman his father had been seeing for the last few months hadn’t worked out. Joshua didn’t know if he was relieved or frustrated by it all. The longer he was left alone with his dad, the more stressed he was getting.

His dad was great, just to be clear. Kyle Wright was about the most perfect man ever—hell, a superman even. Joshua’s mother had passed away over ten years ago, but his dad had never faltered once. No, he had gotten an extra job and then clawed tooth and nail to the top of the tech industry so that he could have time to spend with his son instead of leaving him at the neighbors all the time. Joshua was super proud of his dad. Which was why it sucked extra that it was awkward as fuck to be around him.

He didn’t want to ruin the holidays—not that he was enjoying things much. No, even though his goal was to not to bring it up, Joshua couldn’t make his brain stick to that rule. It kept spinning around in his mind, again and again.

He might be gay… Gay, or really confused. Gay, or at least interested in being fucked.

Probably gay. Maybe.

Tearing his mittens from his hands, Joshua pulled his keys from his pocket and made his half-frozen fingers open the front door. The heat of the house hit him square in the face, and he paused. It felt nearly suffocating when stepping in compared to the crisp winter air outside. The snow he had barely noticed began to immediately melt, creating rivulets of water that dripped down his hair and face he had to blink away from his eyes.

Joshua had caught his dad, well, jerking off that summer break. Awkward. Really fucking awkward. See, there had been this magazine. One of those magazines that existed for one reason, and it wasn’t for reading the articles. He still wasn’t sure where his dad had gotten it… He still wasn’t sure about a lot of things. Joshua had walked past the bathroom one morning only to find the door ajar and his father staring at a magazine. Staring at it while touching himself.

It had been the first dick besides his own he had seen in real life, and for some confusing reason, it had been fascinating. So large when fully erect, so thick and turgid as his father’s strong hand had moved confidently up and down the flushed length. Joshua had suspected he might like boys as well as girls before then. In that moment, he realized just how attractive a man was. A large, fully developed, muscle rippling man with a dick the length of a ruler.

He had watched, silent, saliva filling his mouth, hyper-alert to every sound his father made. The soft grunts, low, masculine sighs, and noise of his lubed cock sliding and then slapping louder in his fist when he pumped in earnest. The growl his father had released right before he came had sent such intense shivers through him that Joshua still had the bad habit of getting hard whenever he heard his father growl at something in anger.

Just thinking about it now got him so hard. Hard and panting and wishing he could stop this insanity. Not that it had been the last time he had tried to spy on his father that summer. No, his curiosity had not been sated by one very dirty peep show. And dirty it had been. His father had blown his load all over the pages, Joshua seeking out the ruined magazine in curiosity once his father had left.

He had turned to the page Kyle had been looking at, identifying it as the one coated in thick streaks of his semen. Joshua had assumed he’d find a woman that looked a bit like his late mother, or maybe even the very large breasted one on the cover coated in clear latex who had displayed every inch of herself with fingers splaying her inner lips. No, not on that page. His father’s choice had been far more revealing in ways Joshua still couldn’t get his mind around. It had been of a brunette bent forward on knees, the camera focused on a toned back where his hands were bound in rope. His legs had been spread wide to straddle the hips of an unseen man whose hands were holding his cheeks open wide for the camera.

It had started Joshua’s fascination with two subjects that had yet to bore him no matter how much he researched: bondage and anal sex. Gay anal sex.

The familiar wash of desire and shame hit him full force. He groaned softly and leaned his weight against the front door until it shut tight. He still wouldn’t call himself gay… Not really. He didn’t think of guys that way… A lot. Fuck, okay, just sometimes he really wondered what his dad thought of guys like that. It always got him so hard that he couldn’t stop thinking about it until he got off.

He could count on his left hand how many times he had actually dared to buy a dirty magazine and leave it out in the hopes of his father doing it again. He knew he was sick—he fucking knew it—and he was grateful that Kyle had never risen to the bait. Because if he had… Fuck, he never would have stopped trying to lure him. It had gotten to the point that Joshua had fantasies of coating himself in pages of filthy magazines if only to get his father to look at him the way he had been looking at that image.

There was something wrong with him. Really fucking wrong with him. In that one moment, he had stopped seeing Kyle Wright as just a father. Instead, he had seen him as a sexual being and hadn’t been able to differentiate since.

Not just any sexual being. His. Connected and existing just for him with the most beautiful blue eyes ever.

Stepping into the house, Joshua kicked his snow-coated boots off. He bent over, clunking the wet footwear together until they were free of the quickly melting slush, then placed them on the rubber mat by the wall right in front of the heater vent. His heavy winter coat ended up hanging above on the series of hooks just for that purpose. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of his father through the window in the growing dusk outside, the blond man’s rugged, handsome face fixed on the mail as he slowly drifted down the snow coated driveway.

It wasn’t hard for his dad to be a sexual figure if he were honest. Kyle wasn’t old the way a lot of his friends’ dads were old, and not just because he had only been 24 when he had started a family. He was still fit, still sharp witted and jovial. Kyle could catch him in a joke faster than anyone else, and race him for a soccer ball and still win if Joshua didn’t try his hardest. His dad worked out, ate healthy, took care of himself. He even dated, a bittersweet occurrence for Joshua. Recently, he half hoped Kyle would find someone while cheering inwardly when he didn’t. Stupid—He knew it was fucking stupid, and selfish, and damn crazy.

He would do anything to make his dad happy, even if it meant never bringing any of this stuff up. He wasn’t ever going to tell him how messed up he felt—He didn’t need to burden his father with something that weighed so heavy on his own heart. A part of him was certain the only reason he wanted to talk to Kyle about his confusions over his sexuality was because he was secretly hoping he would start looking at him as available sexually. Joshua knew he was fucked up and he couldn’t even trust his motives when it came to his dad.

It wasn’t normal; he knew that. There was nothing normal about it at all. It didn’t stop the feelings, though. No matter how much he yelled at himself in his head, nothing stopped how crazy he felt. How hot he got just being in the same room as his dad, how much he thought of the man’s body, his dick, that growl whenever he masturbated. Joshua knew it was wrong and he couldn’t stop it, and he really needed for Christmas to be over so he could get the fuck out of the house and away from his unbearably sexy dad.

Going away to college hadn’t fixed anything. Joshua had tried to hook up with a guy just to see. He had thought maybe he could get it out of his system, but all his timid experimentations with a boy his age had proven to be boring and lacking in the fire he got from his very active imagination. He had even considered hitting on his teacher who was about his dad’s age but, well, the guy was married, for starters, and it just kind of went downhill after that.

Coming home to his dad with no one there to interrupt, to distract, to be witness to the insane lust burning in him had been the worst. Knowing Kyle was sleeping just feet down the hall had made everything so difficult. Every time he touched himself while lying in bed, the level of danger had grown. It would have been nothing to let his moans ring out. So easy to gasp and cry for relief until his father heard him and came to see what was wrong. And once he was there, Joshua would beg him to stay, just to stand there and watch while he touched himself. Maybe even have him come closer, touch him, taste… cover him in his hot cum like the pages of that magazine.

No, it hadn’t gotten better at all.

Returning home with such crazed thoughts had filled him with even worse guilt. His dad had clearly missed him and was woefully oblivious to just how fucked up he was. Kyle was hanging in there, putting up a strong front, but Joshua could tell. They used to do everything together. But going off to college had grown Joshua’s lust into something damn near insatiable and bigger than him. It had made everything so awkward. Even if his dad didn’t understand why, he just couldn’t change the fact that it was never going to not be awkward. Not when he had spent half the walk that evening staring at his dad’s ass and wondering if the man had ever fucked a guy.

Had he? That magazine had been full of women and some men, but his dad had gotten off on looking at the guy. He had chosen to drizzle cum all over that picture out of all the ones available. It had to mean something.

Dripping water onto the floor, Joshua’s socked feet slipped on the tile at the base of the carpeted stairs before he peeled them free from his clammy toes. He paused once reaching the top of the steps, the Christmas tree lights casting a soft, magical glow in the otherwise dark, empty space.

They lived in what average people would call a mansion. It was too big, too empty, but his father said it was an investment in real estate more than anything else. Joshua had grown used to it, even if the place still gave him the creeps when it was dark out and he was alone. It was partly why they had gotten Max when he was a kid. He barely remembered their last house, the one his mom had died in from a carbon monoxide leak from their old, faulty heater. Kyle insisted in having a CO detector in every room of the house now, just to be safe.

The carpet was quickly growing damp beneath his feet. Joshua shucked off his jeans, his mind hot on a shower. The material was half frozen, sticking to his chilled thighs as he tugged the jeans down and off. He rolled his pants up with his socks into a ball and tucked it all under his arm. He just needed a fresh towel and he’d be able to warm the hell up and jerk. God, he needed to fucking cum so bad. Returning home had put him in a near permanent state of arousal that no amount of masturbating seemed to be able to alleviate fully.

He ran his free hand over his erection through his red briefs, his steps faltering for a moment in the hall that led to the bedrooms. His father had just done laundry… Just, the idea of going into his room while hard and thinking of him was probably crossing a line.

The garage door gave a shudder right before it opened, echoing quietly through the house. Kyle was seeing to Max. Joshua could probably get off on his father’s bed and have time to clean up the mess if he was fast enough. Just thinking about it made his balls ache. It’s not like his dad would know. It’s not like he didn’t come all over the shower walls just anticipating his father was going to be in there after…

No, there was nothing normal about it. He had some fucked up obsession that he was losing control over.

His mind was hot with inappropriate thoughts and Joshua twisted the hem of his shirt and tried to take it off one handed as he walked. His shirt obscuring his vision, he didn’t see the man standing in his father’s bedroom, the tall figure between him and the pile of clean laundry on the bed.

“Damn.”

Freezing, Joshua realized with a stutter to his heart that the voice had come from in front of him and not behind. He slowly lowered his arm, unwittingly ruffling his dirty blond hair up as he pulled his shirt free and got a good look at the stranger. There was a click, and his eyes widened to take in the gun pointed at his head.

Sebastian stepped reluctantly down the dark street, hearing the sounds of happy children shrieking yards away as they rang doorbells and demanded candy. He would have driven to the store, but the roads were black and reflective from the cold rain that had been misting that evening and with all the kids milling around for Halloween, he was certain he’d end up running one of the idiots over. Totally by accident, no matter how annoying they were with their costumes and laughing and damn near happy ass lives.

He might be depressed. Not that he didn’t have good reason—He wasn’t one of those emo types that just hated life. Much.

Scowling, Sebastian kicked a wet maple leaf off of his sneaker, feeling the trickle of water get in through the hole in the sole. Perfect. Really perfect. His parents had sent him out to get more candy for the trick-or-treaters, but at this point, he was pretty sure they just wanted to get him out of the house so they wouldn’t have to watch him mope.

Gay. Claire Stevenson thought he was gay.

She hadn’t even been mean about it. She wasn’t the first person to call him gay but most people had done it while making fun of his sappy heart when it came to animals or the fact that he was short and thin and apparently that automatically made him girly. Whatever. He probably could have dismissed it if she had been bitchy and trying to make him feel like shit about himself. Not that the end result was much different. Because the girl he’d been dating for the last three months had just dumped him because she thought he was gay.

God, he hated his life.

You’re just, well, not that into me, Sebastian. It’s like you’re a best friend, not a boyfriend. I can’t make you want me the way I want you, and that’s really, well, terrible feeling to be with someone that doesn’t want me back.

No, she hadn’t been mean at all, but Claire had still managed to destroy him with one damn conversation. He had liked Claire forever. Sebastian couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t had a crush on her. Sure, he wasn’t the most romantic of guys—He’d never say he got butterflies or anything, but that didn’t mean he was gay. Sebastian was just really low key. Boring, if he was feeling down about it. Yeah, he was kind of boring—But not gay. He just didn’t get overly excited about stuff even if he had been crushing on Claire for ages now.

When I kiss you, it’s like, I dunno, wow for me. Really crazy and intense feeling. But you… I don’t think you feel much of anything at all.

God damn it, how could you even measure something like that? How could she just know she felt more than he did? It wasn’t like he was trying to compare or reach some goal of epic makeout sessions. He’d been dreaming about Claire forever, and the moment he finally had a shot at her, he had wanted to take things slow. You know, build a foundation between them. Prove that they could be a long term thing. All of his previous girlfriends had been more like a week to week trial with a whole lot of empty space in between, but with Claire, Sebastian had wanted things to be different.

Well, in a way, they had been, hadn’t they? Instead of being dumped for being too weird or distant, Claire had decided he really just wanted dick. Right after they had been kissing, at that.

He didn’t think he was a bad kisser. He got self-conscious a lot, especially if anyone could be around and see him, but when he did kiss, he thought he was kissing with all his heart. How could she think he didn’t feel just as much for her as she did him? Who even got to say how much you were supposed to feel for someone for it to be officially enough? Hadn’t he like, talked to her every day on the phone and tried to see her every moment he could? Hadn’t he gone out of his way to keep his schedule open around his job and college and her classes to take her out whenever she wanted? How could he do so much and have her think he didn’t feel anything for her? What the fuck else was he supposed to feel?

Fuck, was he supposed to feel something else?

Sebastian growled, his left foot landing hard in an unseen puddle and sloshing up his jean leg, the material immediately soaked. “Fucker.” He hopped, but the damage had been done, his sneaker now squishing with every new step he took, the wet shoe slipping on soggy leaves and concrete alike.

It was an extremely irritating internal monolog, one that didn’t seem to have any answers forthcoming. Sebastian didn’t know if he was feeling enough—He didn’t even know what the fuck he was supposed to feel. He had trusted his feelings this far. Finally, with a girl Sebastian had thought to one day want to marry, she had told him he wasn’t feeling anything at all. And the truth of it was, Sebastian wasn’t fully confident he was feeling everything he was supposed to.

Movies would have him believe he needed to make grand romantic gestures and last-second dashes to airports to show how much he cared. Real life wasn’t like that. At least, his real life wasn’t like that. He wasn’t the type to go rent out an ice skating rink for a romantic date or send twelve dozen roses for the week of Valentine’s Day. He didn’t feel the need to write a book of poetry for how Claire looked in the morning light. He wasn’t the type to want to slice his wrists just because the girl he’d been crushing on had dumped him. For real, who the fuck did that? That wasn’t love; that was just a total chemical imbalance of insanity…

Right?

Running a hand through his damp, black bangs, Sebastian sighed weakly as the line of convenience stores came into view. The small strip mall was lit up in neon oranges, purples, and reds for the holiday, calling customers in from the clammy, wet night with the promise of shelter and heat. He quickened his pace, ignoring the slosh of his sneaker with each frozen step.

God, was he like an unfeeling, dead-hearted idiot and just didn’t know it? Should he be, like, thinking about jumping off a bridge or something because Claire was never going to be with him? Hadn’t he been planning a life with this girl? She was funny, smart, cute, and just all around perfect. Sebastian had friends that acted like if they were dumped, their life was ending. Was he seriously wondering if he was supposed to feel love an entirely different way?

And just who the fuck decided what you were supposed to feel anyways!

He really didn’t know, and the lack of answers was beyond frustrating. Because if he didn’t know, how the hell could he change it? Did he want to change it? Did he need to conform to some level of ‘feeling’ or be forced to accept that he was doomed to be alone for the rest of his life?

Would being alone be better when he wouldn’t be judging himself on how much he was failing to feel for someone he supposedly loved or damn near loved?

Being dumped by Claire didn’t have Sebastian wanting to kill himself, but trying to figure this particular problem out was definitely getting him thinking about a sturdy plastic bag with no air holes.

Jesus, fucking girls. Dictating how he was supposed to feel while in the same breath telling him he wasn’t doing it right. He had felt just as much for Claire as he was meant to feel, or was at least capable of feeling. It might not have been enough for her, but it had been to the best of his damn ability at the time. He sure as fuck hadn’t felt that much for a guy before. Just because he hadn’t lost it over Claire didn’t mean he was gay.

***

He left the warm lights of the convenience store behind him with two bags of candy and an impulsive—but decidedly needed—six-pack in hand. Sebastian’s mood only grew worse when he found the mist that had surrounded him on the walk to the store had turned into a light drizzle that was quickly threatening to grow into a miserable downpour. He hunched forward in his hoodie, the sweatshirt material doing little to protect him from the freezing water and chill wind of approaching winter.

He was full of dread at the idea of going home and having to face his parents’ well-meaning yet completely unhelpful comments as to why things hadn’t worked out with Claire. They kept pushing for him—none too subtly, at that—to move into a dorm or apartment with a group of students his own age. So he could be more sociable. As loathe as he was to have to surround himself with a bunch of loud peers while at the same time losing any ability to fill his savings account, he was starting to consider it if only to avoid the ever increasingly awkward conversations of why he was still single and just couldn’t find the right girl.

As he slipped on slick leaves in the dark, leaning sideways against the wind while standing on the sidewalk, Sebastion began to contemplate his parents’ parting words before he had left the house half an hour ago. Maybe they had been suggesting something else when saying he hadn’t met the ‘right girl’ yet. Maybe they were saying he shouldn’t be expecting to fall for a girl at all…

Did everyone think he was gay just because he’d been unlucky in love?

The sound of crunching tires hitting leaves behind him caught his attention. Sebastian immediately stepped as far from the street as the sidewalk would allow, his expression growing stormy when he heard a puddle splash and felt a fresh spray of water as the vehicle roared past.

“Asshole!” He growled, raising his hand holding the bag full of candy while ineffectively wiping the side of his face that had gotten caught in the deluge of dirty water. He glared after the fading red taillights, glad that the rain had at least driven most of the trick-or-treaters inside so they wouldn’t have to deal with the same fate. Shaking himself off, he forced his frozen feet forward, quietly contemplating just who had insisted on Halloween being so late in the season when the weather was always so cold.

He was going to go home, lock himself in his bedroom, and drink himself to sleep. Not because he was depressed over Claire—no, apparently he still couldn’t work up enough emotion for that—but because he was so fucking annoyed by being told he didn’t know how to feel. He knew how to feel. He did it every fucking day. And if that wasn’t good enough, well, too fucking bad for Claire.

Somehow feeling more empowered in his anger even though he was still absolutely lost on what the fuck Claire had been trying to tell him, Sebastian splashed through puddles and piles of colorful, rain-drenched leaves until he reached the familiar streets of his neighborhood. The rain had only increased and his steps sped up in response, his sweatshirt soaked through and bangs now dripping into his green eyes, obscuring his vision. Which was why, when headlights suddenly flashed and Sebastian caught sight of a small, hunched body in the middle of the road, without thinking he immediately dashed forward.

A horn blared startling loud, the tires to Mr. Walden’s sedan shrieking on the wet pavement when the man slammed on his brakes to avoid Sebastian’s poorly lit form. He barely noticed, his gaze fixed on the middle of the road where a child’s plastic pumpkin treat holder was tipped upside down, candy scattered on the ground all around it. But where he had thought he had seen the body of a person, a drenched, wide-eyed black cat looked up at him, it’s fur matted to its trembling body.

“Sebastian! Are you out of your damn mind, boy? You could have been killed!” Rolling his window down roughly, the older man squinted into the rain, trying to see past Sebastian’s knees illuminated by his headlights. “Oh, hell, don’t tell me that’s a…”

“It’s a cat,” Sebastian said, wonder and warmth filling his voice in equal proportions as he bent down and offered the back of his hand to the small creature’s delicate nose. “I think he was eating the candy.” He had never known a cat to eat candy, but with the torn wrappers under the cat’s paw, he was pretty sure that was what it was doing.

Scowling with a mix of annoyance and relief to find that there was no child crumpled under the wheels of his car, Mr. Walden revved his engine impatiently. “Come on, get out of the street. Whatever it’s doing, the road is no place for it or you. Especially in this rain.”

Eyes of impossible periwinkle depths stared up into his. Crouching down, Sebastian held his hands out, the frail looking cat following the movement with its head warily. “You cold, little guy?” Sebastian crooned, carefully scratching behind a bedraggled ear. When no bite or hiss came, he edged closer, cautiously wrapping his arms around the cat’s body but not lifting just yet. “I’m going to get you out of this rain, okay? My home is nice and warm and you won’t have to worry about being run over.”

Taking the silence and trembling of the small form as permission, Sebastian carefully tightened his arms until the black cat was in his embrace. He stood slowly, hooking the plastic handle of the pumpkin with him so no kid would wander into the road to try and rescue it as well. He ignored Mr. Walden’s eyeroll—the man was clearly not as impressed by a pathetic, shivering, soaking wet cat as he was—and slowly walked his new friend to the sidewalk where they could both be safe.

“Do you have a collar, pretty?” He asked softly, gently scratching beneath the cat’s chin until it tilted its face up to reveal that it was indeed collarless. But even though the cat was bedraggled and scavenging for food, Sebastian was certain it belonged to someone or had only just recently lost its owner. It was far from feral, curled up in his arms and purring as it tried to heat itself against the rain and cold. It hadn’t tried to claw him or anything even though the poor thing had nearly been run over and had to be terrified.

Water dripped down onto Sebastian’s nose from the brim of his sweatshirt hood, startling him momentarily and reminding him that even though his new friend was safe from cars, it was still out in the miserable weather that could be just as dangerous for a domestic animal. Decided, he turned towards his house, speaking soothingly as he held the cat close against his chest between the damp layers of his shirt, offering it as much protection as he could from the elements while he took him home.

“Damn, kid, don’t you ever go to school?”

Ethan blinked up from his phone screen as his stepfather came into the kitchen, his eyes lingering for a moment on the man’s tattooed arms. “Summer vaca,” Ethan mumbled, ducking his head back down and hiding behind his box of cereal as the man made his way to the stove top and began cooking up a late breakfast. “Don’t you have work?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. Jeff didn’t talk much. The guy had moved in six months ago after a whirlwind engagement and besides hanging out in the adjoining garage painting all day, Ethan rarely saw the man outside of the occasional times Jeff would try and catch up with him.

He was kind of glad the guy was so busy. Jeff unsettled the fuck out of him.

“I’ve actually been up since dawn. Just grabbing something to eat before I get back to the canvas. Got that gallery showing in a week and I need to get some last minute touchups done before framing.”

Ethan nodded to himself, having a bite of his now soggy cereal while sneaking a peek at the man. Jeff was still in his pajamas, wearing a pair of black flannel night pants and a black wifebeater that was flecked with spots of paint. He wasn’t wearing shoes—the man rarely did while around the house. Both of his arms were covered from shoulder to wrist in tattoo’s, his tanned skin colored in elaborate, geometric patterns in blue, gold, and black ink. It was apparently inspired by one of Jeff’s own paintings. A badass painting if he was to go by the man’s bulging biceps.

Ethan’s new stepfather was a lot of eye candy. With his piercing blue eyes and brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, the guy could have been a model. He had the body for it—tall, lean, and buff—as well as the not giving a fuck attitude. Jeff always looked like he was two days late to shave, a light fuzz prickling at his jaw and neck, and he rarely dressed up beyond jeans and a t-shirt. He was also one of those health nuts, having filled their refrigerator with tons of fresh, organic produce when he moved in, his blender heard before any of the alarm clocks went off.

“You looking for a job?”

Ethan ducked his head back down, shaking it silently when the man glanced over at him from the stove. He tried to lose himself in his video game but couldn’t stop from being distracted by Jeff’s presence across the room. The thing was, Ethan didn’t like guys. He was pretty fucking sure. But it was really hard to look away from Jeff whenever the man was around. There was just something about the guy that drew his eye and kept him looking. Like his colorful biceps. Or the way the man’s thin pants clung to his sculpted ass.

It was unsettling. Confusing. Ethan just couldn’t stop getting hot whenever around his stepfather and it had been going on for months now.

“You need a job, kid. An internship. Something. You going to waste your life hanging around the fucking house all the time?”

Ethan looked up when his cereal box was suddenly taken away, watching as Jeff placed a plate with an omelet in front of him, the man nudging his bowl of cereal aside on the kitchen island to make room. “You also need to start eating some actual food. There is no way there are enough calories in that sugary shit to even get you out of your chair. I don’t know how the hell you get through your soccer games on this shit.”

Jeff was damn near intimidating when up close, the man’s face predatorial and eyes stunning as they met his. He was also bisexual, something Ethan’s mom had mentioned in passing and now he couldn’t stop thinking about. Ethan nearly dropped his phone, quickly grabbing the fork that was pushed his way to hide his tremor.

“Your mother ever teach you how to cook?” Jeff asked, cocking his hip and leaning against the island while he waited for Ethan to try the food. The hem of the man’s shirt was stretched over his hips in a way that revealed a flash of tanned abs and a sparse trail of hair leading beneath his pants. It was very distracting.

Ethan really wished the guy would look somewhere else so he could fucking breathe and stop feeling like an idiot already. He shook his head silently, finally giving in to his stepfather and scooping some food onto his fork. “Shit—I mean, this is really good. Uh, sir. T-Thank you.”

Jeff raised a brow at the stuttering boy, silently mouthing the word ‘sir’ to himself. His gaze slid down to where the blond had just nearly dropped his fork. “Well?”

Ethan jolted, looking up, the utensil now caught between his lips. “Um…?”

“Did Leah ever show you how to cook?” Jeff repeated, a slight smile curling the edges of his lips when Ethan began to flush.

“My mom’s not… She doesn’t cook,” Ethan mumbled, reaching for his phone with his other hand in the hopes of ending this absolutely alarming conversation where his stepfather looked at him and kept asking him about stuff.

“You wanna learn how?” Jeff prompted, watching as the blond boy tried to hide behind the small cell phone screen and eat another bite of food at the same time. “Seeing as you’re going to be around all day, and I do try to make it a point to eat.”

Ethan shrugged, grunting something noncommittal.

Jeff was not deterred, the man’s fingers curling around the boy’s wrist to guide his hand away from his face. When Ethan looked up, only blushing brighter now, he added, “And while I’m showing you how to cook, you can fill out some job applications.”

The man’s words sinking in, Ethan scowled, pulling his hand away to rest it on the table instead. His wrist felt like it was tingling where Jeff had touched it, an annoying distraction as he tried to state his case for not needing any job now that he had gotten his last year of high school out of the way.

“I don’t want a job. I’m starting college in a couple of months and I just want to chill for a bit before all that.”

“What, are you ancient? Decrepit? Eat your omelet.” Jeff turned away, going back to the stove and cracking more eggs into a bowl and whisking them with a fork. “You’re going to want money, right? You’re going to want to hang out with your friends. Gas cost money, kid. Concerts, food, the mall—Believe me, you’re going to want a job.”

“Really, I’m not,” Ethan muttered, glaring at his plate. He had only just started to feel the freedom of being out of school. All he wanted to do was hang out with his friends and maybe his house. “My mom will pay for all that shit.”

Jeff snorted, the trash bin rattling as he threw the eggshells into the wastebasket. “Like fuck, she will. Leah does enough without needing to pay for your lazy ass.”

“I’m not lazy,” Ethan said with a growl.

“Oh, did you pay for that $600 phone your face is always glued to? What about the nearly $100 a month it costs so that you can text your friends your every riveting thought as you have them? The motorcycle you’re driving or the insurance that allows you to do so?” Jeff turned, pointing the spatula at him when Ethan stood, the boy getting ready to escape. “What about rent? All that cardboard food you keep eating? Just where do you think the money for all that comes from? Not your schooling.”

Pursing his lips, Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not lazy. I’m just a kid.”

Jeff scoffed. “Not anymore, you aren’t. I don’t get why Leah didn’t have you working through summers. It’s time to grow the fuck up and start contributing. I’m not painting every day to keep your ass in designer jeans, kid.”

Glaring, a million scathing retorts swirling in his head, Ethan opened his mouth but nothing came out. Jeff’s eyes were blazing, the man unblinking and deceptively calm as he just stared him down. “No one asked you to buy me anything,” Ethan finally muttered, unable to meet the man’s glare any longer. He liked it, though. A part of him liked that Jeff cared enough to lend him money for things. His mother was never around but Jeff was, even if the guy didn’t talk to him as much as he’d like. Ethan had never had a dad before and Jeff was the closest thing to perfect in a lot of ways when it came to things like that.

“Hm.” His eyes narrowed, Jeff turned back to the stove, flipping his omelet before it started browning. “Don’t go running off until you eat. I don’t think you’ve had more than pizza and Cheetos this entire week.”

Sighing in exasperation, Ethan sat, glaring at the man’s back. Only to have his eyes inadvertently slide down, his gaze caught on Jeff’s ass when the man leaned over to grab the salt and pepper shakers. It was a decidedly interesting ass; firm, symmetrical and muscular. He hadn’t really known that he liked muscular asses but he definitely liked Jeff’s.

“You interested in anything in particular?”

Ethan jumped, his eyes snapping up. But the brunette was only looking at the pan, poking it with his spatula. “What?”

“For work. You have anything in mind you’d like to do?”

Ugh. “Play video games,” Ethan said flippantly.

“Cute. I’m sure people just hand you money for that shit.”

“Coming from the artist,” he muttered, stabbing at his omelet. That it was about the best thing he had tasted in as long as he could remember didn’t help his mood at all. “People pay you to hang out around the house painting pictures.”

“Not exactly.” Plating his food, Jeff turned the stove top off and poured himself a glass of fresh juice before sitting across from Ethan at the kitchen island.

“People buy a product from me. Now some pay for a service if they want to hire me to paint as a demonstration, or to design a mural, tattoo, whatever. But for the most part, I create something and people buy a print or the original. That’s how I can get away with hanging around the house all day; I’m selling even when I’m asleep. That doesn’t mean I don’t have to work it for clients at galleries and meetings that get my art on walls where people can see. Renting out one of my paintings to a business requires me to do more than just paint, but it’s worth the money that comes in. Half my income this month was just on rented paintings. They’re not even new pieces but they can pay the bills if you know what you’re doing.”

Ethan really didn’t want to care just how Jeff made his money. Unfortunately, he was finding it interesting and he sighed again, daring to look up at the man. Jeff’s head was ducked, a long lock of wavy hair brushing over one of his eyes, his mouth open as he took a bite of his breakfast. The man had ridiculously lush lips, full and red. Combined with his sharp features and strong jaw, he really was just the epitome of male beauty. Ethan idly wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. They probably weren’t as soft as they looked. With Jeff’s bristle, it might even be prickly, a little rough.

Glancing up, Jeff caught Ethan staring at him, the boy immediately looking away. “You pick a major yet?”

Ethan shook his head weakly, hating how flustered he felt. “Mom said she was going to help.”

“Yeah, well waiting for Leah to pull herself from her work is like watching paint dry.” Jeff smiled grimly. “I can help you if you want. I’m surprisingly good at that kind of shit.”

Glancing his way a moment, Ethan shrugged. “Okay. Um, maybe tonight? Once I get back from hanging with my friends. I was thinking of something business oriented.”

He couldn’t help but wonder how quickly it had taken for Jeff to figure out just how unavailable his mother really was. It would probably still take the man a good year to realize she wasn’t going to change. And seeing as he married her, he might even stick it out longer trying to make it work. He was young still; he might think it was worth putting the effort in.

Ethan hoped he would. Not because he wanted to see Jeff break his heart but because he really liked having the man as a stepfather. Jeff was cool. Scary, but cool. Ethan had never had anyone actually care about him and even though Jeff breezed in and out most of the day between painting, the man was always saying and doing stuff that made it clear he gave a fuck. He was a calming presence. Sturdy and reliable. Ethan wasn’t used to having something like that and he’d be really pissed if his mother ruined it for him.

His mother had tried this time, he knew that much. Jeff was very different from what Leah usually dated. He was self-driven and had interests outside of just their relationship—Really important seeing as Ethan’s mother lived for her work and her last three relationships had failed because she couldn’t put enough time or energy into them. She was always at the office and when she was home, her head was at the office, planning new ideas, designing new rooms and buildings.

Leah Walde was an architect, a highly sought after one, and she had started her own firm ten years ago. Jeff had actually been commissioned to create a portrait of one of her more famous buildings and that was how they had met. That Jeff could balance his creativity with business savvy had been a good fit for Leah, even if Jeff didn’t have much interest in doing much beyond supporting himself so that he could continue his painting. It was still a step up from the last guy who had thought he was going to be some sort of jobless house husband.

“Any thoughts on what you want to learn how to cook for tonight?” Jeff asked, having a sip of his juice.

Ethan couldn’t help but stare; a droplet of moisture dripping from his stepfather’s mouth to trickle down his chin. God, what was wrong with him? He blinked, finding Jeff staring at him with a raised brow, the man waiting patiently for an answer. Ethan really didn’t have one. “Um, whatever you feel like eating, I guess.”

Grinning wickedly, Jeff put his glass down, leaning close and crooking his finger. “Careful there. I don’t think you could stomach half the things I eat, kid.”

His breath curling hot around his ear, Ethan’s breath hitched. He glanced Jeff’s way, feeling stupid as fuck when he caught the man still smiling. His eyes were sparkling at him, flashing with some hidden laughter that was making him feel hot inside. For a frozen eternity, he was certain the man was flirting with him and he had no idea how to respond.

Thankfully, Jeff seemed oblivious to his panic, the man reaching over and patting Ethan’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, kid, I won’t make you eat anything too healthy and green. Seeing the diet you’re coming from, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm your system with anything of substance.”

“Oh.” Gnawing on his bottom lip, Ethan slowly sank back in his seat, hoping his cheeks would stop burning soon. He had a sip of his soda, his gaze inadvertently drawn to his stepfather again. “Um… So, like, when did you know you were bi?” Ethan asked daringly, his heart feeling trapped in his throat once he got the question out.

Moving in a way that seemed just a little too casual, Jeff placed his fork down. “Young. Younger than you are.” He met Ethan’s curious gaze, his head tilting slightly. “Why? Does my sexuality make you uncomfortable?”

“Jesus, only when you say it like that,” Ethan muttered, covering his face with his hand for a moment. He peeked out, combing his fingers through his short blond locks. “Just… Did you know at the same time? Or was it, like, you liked one and then realized you liked the other later?”

Considering the question a moment, Jeff finally answered after having another drink of his juice. “Both. I had at least half a dozen crushes back then and it was pretty easy for me to see that gender was not a barrier for my attraction.”

“So bi people, they all know, like, at the same time, then? Like, if you’re going to be bi, you’re definitely going to know when you start getting crushes. It doesn’t, like, change?” Ethan asked nervously, his fingers twisting at his placemat.

“I’m not sure that would be the way I’d word it,” Jeff said carefully, studying his stepson’s face while Ethan bit his lip and looked at the table. “I think attraction is based on more than just a body, and sometimes when all the right elements come together, you might just find yourself looking at someone you weren’t expecting to be looking at.”

His brows furrowing at the answer, Ethan forced himself to look the man in the eye. “I’m not talking about love or shit. I’m not saying people can’t, like, fall in love and overcome gender or what have you. I just want to know if, you know, you can suddenly be attracted to…” He trailed off, waving his hand nervously.

“Are you worried you’re going to wake up wanting to suck cock?” Jeff asked blandly.

“Now you’re just being an asshole.” Scowling and beyond embarrassed, Ethan stood, more than ready to get away from this man that flustered the fuck out of him on so many different levels. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with gay people. That’s not what I was—”

“Sit your ass down, brat,” Jeff ordered quietly. “Did I say there was anything actually wrong with sucking cock?”

Ethan paused and glared at the man, his brain unfortunately now stuck on the question of if his stepfather had ever sucked cock and what that might look like. A beat later and he sat back down, his leg bouncing nervously. “I just want to know if you can, well… Like a…” He couldn’t say it and was only feeling more upset by the fact because it was Jeff he was trying to explain it to.

“Can you suddenly like someone of the same gender and still like the opposite sex as well?” Jeff supplied when Ethan seemed unable to continue on.

Pursing his lips, Ethan nodded sharply. “But more, can you just, like, suddenly like someone of the same gender. When you never did before. Not ever.”

“Not ever?” Jeff repeated, his eyebrows rising in disbelief.

“Not ever,” Ethan repeated sternly, daring him to call him a liar.

“Well, I’ve only ever had my own experiences to compare to, but if this has happened to someone, I’m pretty sure it’s not the end of the world.” He flashed the boy a comforting smile, placing his elbow on the table so he could lean his chin on his hand. “It’s not like this person would have to act on anything just because he felt something new. People get crushes all the time and don’t act on them.”

Ethan nodded, fairly certain Jeff had no idea just who he was crushing on by the casual air the man was giving off. “But it’s, like, normal?”

“As normal as the huge range of human sexuality can get.”

“But is it bi?” Ethan added, his expression again growing tense.

“It’s whatever that person wants it to be. A fluke. A one-time attraction… Or maybe it’s bi, and they’re just finding out.” Jeff’s smile had only grown, his eyes sparkling, and Ethan was feeling decidedly uncomfortable with just how nice the man looked with his perfectly white teeth.

“Stop smiling at me like that. I never said it was me,” he grumbled, grabbing his plate and jumping up to rinse it in the sink.

“Did I say I thought it was you?” Jeff asked, his smile now beaming. “Shit, are you going to start calling me dad now?”

“Fuck off,” Ethan snapped, grinning despite himself. “You’re lucky I call you sir.”

“Yeah, could you not do that? It’s weird—Children of the Corn weird. That would be a movie you’ve never heard of, by the way.” Jeff stood as well, stepping up behind Ethan at the sink with his empty plate in hand. “Just call me Jeff. ‘Hey you,’ if you’re feeling lazy.”

Ethan was having trouble focusing, Jeff standing far too close for him to notice anything else. God, it might be ‘normal’ but it was still really annoying to feel so fucking hot over someone. “Here, just…” He turned, taking the plate and fork from the man, nearly dropping both when their fingers brushed accidentally. Spinning back, he quickly washed them and put them in the dryer rack, his heart racing too fast in his chest. God, he hated this. Fucking hated it.

Jeff had stepped around the island and was drinking the last of his juice when Ethan finally got up the nerve to turn around. The faucet off, he crossed the kitchen to grab his phone.

“I start cooking around 6:30,” Jeff said, Ethan pausing mid-stride.

“Right. Um, I’m going to meet my friends tonight. Like, eightish.”

“Alright. It’s a plan.”

Nodding, Ethan edged to the door, slipping through with a quick backward glance. Jeff was staring back at him and for a frozen moment their eyes met, Ethan’s heart racing in response.

God, he really needed to get over this thing.

***

Son of a bitch. Bi? Was the kid bi now? Why did Ethan have to tell him he thought he might be bi? What was he trying to do to him?

Groaning inwardly, Jeff pressed both his hands on the kitchen island, leaning heavily over the countertop as he willed his erection down. One fumbling touch from the kid’s hand on his and he had gotten hard. Not good. Really not good.

Talking to Ethan had been a terrible, terrible idea. Sure, he had known he was being too antisocial and that he was worried the kid would start thinking he hated him. Leah hadn’t been around in forever, and he was pretty sure the kid had no adult supervision in his life but fuck… Fuck.

The things he would do to Ethan Walde if he hadn’t married the boy’s mother.

He was too young for him, didn’t know shit about life—And only ten minutes ago, decidedly straight. Many very good reasons Jeff had focused on whenever he found himself in the same room as the young man. But Ethan was also fucking delicious. He had soft, golden hair and wide, clear, green eyes, flawless skin and his average height was already filled out with muscle from his competitive soccer playing. That summer vacation had started and Ethan seemed content to haunt the kitchen and living room most hours of the day, half the time without a shirt on, had become a special type of hell for Jeff.

Cooking lessons? The kid needed to learn how to cook—to eat—but shit, why the fuck had he suggested cooking lessons? Knives and fire and the two of them in the somewhat cramped kitchen? Alone.

Dumb. Really fucking dumb.

He needed to get laid. That was all. He had gone into this thing with Leah with a predefined understanding that he needed sex more than she did and that she was more than happy to let him go out and get it as long as he was safe about it and he was home for the weekends to do family stuff. Of course, it had turned out that he had no problem being home on the weekends while Leah couldn’t seem to find her own house. Jeff hadn’t gotten around to checking out his options in the area. He had moved to a new town for Leah and although he was enjoying his large art studio, he hadn’t done much outside of the house besides grocery shop and jog in the morning. Something that was going to have to change if his sexy-ass stepson was hanging around all summer. And now bi.

The kid needed a job. Like yesterday.

Jeff could only hope that whatever reason Ethan had been looking at him strangely the last few weeks had to do with that conversation and would finally stop. The staring had been the icing on the shit cake of this insane situation. Ethan was probably just curious about the bi thing. More than a few guys were curious about the bi thing. It used to be the quickest way for Jeff to get a straight guy into bed—Just tell him he was bi and let him ask a million questions until he explained how much easier it was just to show than tell.

Not something he could do with Ethan. Not something he should even be fucking thinking about doing with the kid. Stepson. Young, naive, and very much off-limits for anything.

Hot, though. Really fucking hot. He had great nipples, the perfect size, pink spots just begging to be kissed, licked and then nipped sore. And his neck—he wanted to coat the boy’s long throat with his cum until it dripped down his toned torso like a pearly, dirty river. And if Ethan wanted to call him daddy while he was doing it, well, that would be more than fine with him.

“Jesus, get it the fuck together,” Jeff grunted to himself, his body lighting up with heat and his cock again hardening until it was pressed up against the side of the island.

It was time to start checking out his fucking options in the area. There was a bar within walking distance; some pool joint where he’d seen a mix of ages and sexes go in. He just needed to fuck something—preferably a hot twink that could pass for half his age so he could get this out of his system. Until then, he was going to have to settle for his hand and get the fuck back to work. He had a set of three paintings that Leah had commissioned from him for one of her older clients. It was guaranteed money and a potentially lasting connection if he got it all done in time and kissed ass well enough. That on top of his gallery opening in a week had him completely swamped. He couldn’t be wasting his time fantasizing about fucking his sexy-ass stepson.

Pulling a cigarette free, Darien lit it up in the hall the moment he stepped outside Beau’s classroom. His teach was trying to get some food down and he just needed to get the fuck out and breathe for a second. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something, and scream, and hunt down and destroy the fucker that had hurt his Beau. Instead, he was going to smoke for a minute then go back in and pretend he wasn’t a fucking mess inside so that the blond could feel safe.

Why the fuck hadn’t Beau called him?

He looked over to where Roland was typing on his phone, the man doing his magic with the guys back at their office to find every bit of information available on Collin Hayward. Darien hadn’t bothered to tell Beau that the business he had started when he was back in high school involved the finding of sensitive information and then the blackmailing of people that gave a fuck about if that information was shared. He had started the company with a few ex-military friends, some he had gone to school with, some who he knew from other connections. Once, he had thought he’d be using them just to find out if his father was looking to fuck with his life again. Now he had a feeling he might have to see if Roland knew how to hide a body depending on how bad the night went.

“Do you want me to call in a doctor?”

Darien shook his head sharply. “Not unless he asks for one.”

“Boss, he was practically catatonic when we got here. For all we know, his brain took a bruising from that hit to his face.”

Blowing a steady stream of smoke, Darien didn’t bother to answer. His teach could take a punch. He had seen him take worse at the hands of Blake and his bitch friends and hadn’t missed a fucking beat. No, his teach had gotten down on his knees, sucked him off like a pro, and then rode his fingers until he came. Pain was not a deterrent for the blond but an aphrodisiac. If Beau wanted a doctor, he’d ask. It was one of the many rules they had set up to make sure the blond wasn’t getting himself in too deep. Except, even with everything Darien had done, Beau had still managed to get hurt the second he was out of his sight.

Beau wouldn’t let him hire a bodyguard. It had been a huge sore spot for Darien, one that he was pretty sure was about to blow up after this. He just wanted to have a familiar guy with his teach, someone he could trust to make sure nothing went down when he couldn’t be there. But Beau thought he was being silly. The man didn’t want people thinking he was someone special or some stupid shit like that. But Beau was special. His teach was his fucking life and today had been a new kind of hell for Darien when the man hadn’t shown up for dinner.

He shouldn’t have let him leave without a bodyguard. He should have locked the man up in the fucking house and made him quit his shitty job. There was just something about Beau, something in his eyes that called to certain individuals to feed his need for pain. It made them want to hurt him, use him, and when his pretty teach was in the right headspace, Beau loved ever second of it and begged for more. But that was only when he was in that headspace and with someone that actually gave a fuck enough to figure out what he liked.

Tears. Fucking tears in those beautiful blue eyes, and not in a sexy way. No, in a fucking helpless way that wrenched Darien’s heart too painful to fathom. Beau could take a fucking punch but this thing, whatever had happened, it had hurt him in a way pain didn’t. He was doing his damndest to not imagine just how exactly that could have been.

“I gotta make some calls,” he finally said, crushing his cigarette beneath his heel and scraping it into the tile. “I want that fucker found, and I want him brought here tonight.”

“Here?” Roland looked up, pulling a second phone out while he continued typing one-handed on the first. “The school?”

Darien nodded, ignoring the questioning look his head of security was sending him. He needed to make sure that whatever had happened hadn’t fucked up his pretty teach forever. Beau had a special kind of wiring, one that demanded the right knowledge and a skilled touch. He knew the longer the problem stretched on and festered, the harder it would be to get Beau feeling like himself again. He wanted things taken care of asap. The fact that part of it involved beating the shit out of the deadman that had touched his Beau was just a total perk.

“We got him,” Roland called out before the boy could leave, pushing off the wall. “He just used his credit card in a restaurant less than twenty minutes away.”

“Danny?”

“Already on the way with Jordan. How do you want this guy brought in, boss?”

Darien considered, eying the picture Roland held up on the screen of his phone. “Keep him pretty. I want to fuck him up myself. Let me know when they get him here, but not in front of the teach.”

Roland nodded, texting as Darien spoke. “The guys dug up some more shit on him. Hayward was in a heavy scene about five years back. Used to frequent an underground club. Few regulations, lots of drugs. They were known for some pretty fucked up doms. A young man ended up dead and the place was shut down. Looks like Hayward’s aunt threw some money at some people and no one is saying shit.” He glanced up when Darien growled, fixing the boy with a look. “Hey, this is good news. With info like this, you have this guy by the balls.”

Darien just grunted, fighting back his anger and the pit of seething emotion beneath it. “You remember that kid I asked you to keep an eye on a few weeks back? Sutor’s brother, Rich? Did he ever get back to us on that thing we discussed?”

Roland nodded, already flipping through his other phone. “He seemed agreeable enough to it. Clean record. Able to listen.”

“I want him down here.” Hopefully, it would fix it.

In that moment, he felt like he was fighting fire with fire while holding onto the foolish hope the place wouldn’t burn down. But that was what Darien did. Every day he pushed forward, demanded the best from himself and everyone around him, and he prayed he wouldn’t trip and be stopped flat. Being with Beau had changed that. He had been allowed to take a beautiful soul and feed it, nurture it and give his teach everything the man could ever desire and he had felt at peace from it. Until someone had tried to take his teach away from him. Now Darien was back to trying to keep ahead of the consequences at breakneck speed while hoping he wouldn’t crash.

He had to suck it up. Push through and keep his eye on the prize along with every other cliche fucking saying that would help him get through this. Not for him but for Beau. His teach needed him strong. Darien didn’t feel strong; he felt absolutely out of control. The one man he gave a fuck about had been assaulted and he hadn’t been able to do a thing. He hadn’t even known until hours later. It didn’t matter what he did to this Hayward dick in retribution, it wouldn’t change the fact that he had failed Beau, that he could fail him again at any time. He could wrap the blond in fucking bubble wrap and order him to stay at his feet but Beau was going to pursue the things that brought him joy even when pain swiftly followed.

Sighing, he lit up another cigarette. He didn’t take pain as well as Beau did. He didn’t like to feel pain; he liked to push past it and let it spur him into action. Watching his pretty teach take pain was an experience unmatched by any other. The man was beautiful—strong in such a way he was never going to be, and so fucking beautiful. The man embraced the good and the bad, the pleasure and pain, and he transformed it into something beyond with his own body. Beau was fucking magic and didn’t even know it.

It didn’t matter how hard Darien pushed himself. Life wasn’t scripted and there was always something waiting in the dark to try and prey on the weak and unlucky. He could only protect his teach to the best of his ability and hope that Beau would be able to take the burden of pain when he failed. He’d be able to carry his teach through after, but he couldn’t change the fucking world that would break the man in the first place.

Eyes sliding slowly around the room, Beau tried and failed to relax in the huge bathroom of marble, stainless steel and glass he was in. It was very open, very spacious and he felt both small and exposed whenever he stepped inside the luxurious but sterile room. That was helped by the fact that all the blinds on the floor to ceiling windows had been left open, the early morning light bouncing off each shining white, silver and black surface. Outside the window, an expansive green lawn could be seen, the grounds looking more like they belonged to a golf course than surrounding a person’s home. Or should he say mansion? His student called it home but Beau was fairly certain the only way to classify the building was as a mansion.

He slowly stripped his new silky pajamas off, his eyes drawn to the mirrored wall where he could see himself reflected clearly. From the angle, it looked like he was outside standing on the lush grass instead of the cool marble tile. Slender, toned and lithe, Beau’s blue eyes couldn’t tear away from the red marks wrapping around his thighs and hips in faded slashes. He was always so surprised to see the marks on his creamy flesh in the light of dawn, how they had come to be there feeling like a foggy, heated dream of the evening before. He traced over a thin red welt that ran right across his left nipple, his body jolting as he remembered how he had earned it. Darien had said he was just too pretty, that he had been begging for it so bad the last time he had shown up to class with his pretty teach. The ruler was the only way to deal with such a bad teacher.

It had been a little over two weeks since he had moved in with his student and Beau still wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or seconds away from ruining his life.

Stepping around the jacuzzi tub that took up the entire length of the windowed wall, Beau set the electronic shower. The thing could turn into a sauna with a push of a button but he wasn’t the type to indulge in such extravagances. The multiheaded jets that hit him in all the right spots was far more than he was used to. The water hot and steamy, he slipped into the spray, his golden blond hair quickly drenched as he was lost in the sounds and sensations of the shower.

It didn’t matter how much the glass steamed up, Beau still felt exposed, still felt like he was being observed through the large open windows of the bathroom. He wasn’t a vain man even if he was beautiful. He had used to hate how girly he looked, how women would refuse to date him because they thought he was prettier than them. Now he prized his beauty only as much as it gained him the attention of the one person he didn’t want to look away from him. He could be beautiful for Darien. If it kept the young man holding him tight and tying him up, Beau would be as pretty as possible.

There was a camera on the other side of the glass shower wall. He wasn’t sure exactly where, but Darien had insisted when he had first showed him the bathroom, pointing vaguely in the direction. It had been a terrible problem, one Beau had found worse in the mornings when he woke hard and Darien was still asleep. He turned his back to the windowed wall where the camera was supposed to be, one of his hands lightly bracing on the shower wall while his other moved down to his crack, his fingers probing into his hot, tight flesh still sore from the evening before. Darien wouldn’t be up yet, the boy rarely rising before ten am, but Beau had classes to teach and a job to get to. He’d have to wait until after the school day was over to feel the brunette’s claiming touch and get proper relief for the ache already building inside him. It didn’t stop him from driving his fingers deep inside his entrance, bending forward while gasping and putting himself on display for Darien just in case the boy did wake and look at the footage he kept of the bathroom.

That Darien had expressly forbidden him from coming without him present to see only made him harder.

Beau bit his lip, gasping softly under the sound of water hitting his flesh and the tile. It was only the second time he was trying this, still shy since having moved into the large mansion with his student. There weren’t a lot of places where he was alone, Darien usually right next to him. The idea of the boy watching him masturbate in the shower when he wasn’t supposed to was intense for him. He wasn’t even sure if there was really a camera. He wasn’t sure if Darien even looked at it if there was and if anything could be seen past the steam. But touching himself in such an open, spacious room felt hot like anyone could just walk by and see.

He really wanted Darien to see him. Really wanted the boy to know he was thinking of him with every plunge of his fingers into his passage.

His calves straining, he spread his legs wider on the slightly coarse stone floor that kept him from slipping. He clenched around his fingers, groaning lowly only to cover his mouth. Noises still made him feel like he was crossing a line and he could only allow himself so much before he got too shy. If Darien had been there, it would have different, but alone, Beau’s courage was very limited. Not that it was courage that had him riding his own fingers and whimpering desperately under his breath with each stroke that failed to hit his prostate. No, it was a mix of need and shame and giddy anticipation of the many things Darien had already done to him and would hopefully continue to do.

There was a noise under the sounds of the shower spray, Beau stilling his movements and pressing his face against the warming tile. His lashes dripping droplets of water, he slowly thrust his fingers in and out of his tight entrance when no new sounds were heard. He wanted to pretend he was being watched, his body flushed and tingling at the very thought. Darien had a slew of nameless servants that breezed through rooms silent as could be. On more than one occasion, he had been in the middle of a session with his student only to catch a glimpse of a person watching as they stepped by the door.

Beau groaned lowly, his muscles straining as he imagined those faceless people watching him now. He came with a cry, his passage clenched painfully tight around his fingers as he shoved them as deep as they could reach. Moaning, he ran his tongue over the immaculate tile wall, wishing he had a dildo or just his very large student to take him properly.

Hell, even alone he was getting messed up. He had to wonder if it was Darien doing it to him or just the craziness inside that had been allowed to be let lose.

The shower door clicked open, Beau gasping and staring straight ahead at the shower tile as cool air rushed into the enclosed space. For a frozen eternity, he questioned who it could be because he had yet to see Darien up this early. A servant? Maybe a relative of Darien’s that was wondering who the fucked up man was masturbating in the boy’s shower?

“Bad, teach. Very fucking bad.”

Melting at the words and the boy they belonged to, Beau raised his head, peeking over his shoulder. Darien was standing in the shower doorway, his muscular chest bare and tanned, black tattoos running over his thick biceps possessively. His hair was mussed from sleep, the boy dressed hastily in a pair of low hanging jeans, the bottoms already wet from the water spraying and bouncing off the floor.

Green eyes glared at him, Beau whimpering when he met that burning stare. He was in trouble and he couldn’t wait to find out what his punishment would be.

Galvin

He’s back. Coffee guy. Black hair, pale skin, gold eyes, red lips, really tight ass. Knocking on my office door like he doesn’t know who I am. Smiling at me like he doesn’t know what I am. Breathing easy like he doesn’t know he’s mine.

He’s been by six times this week. Coffee related. Stands outside my open office door, leaning on Margie’s desk while chatting up a storm. Tight jeans, hard thighs, very nice biceps under his polo. His name’s Jayden. Human resources sent me up a file on him before I requested it. Because they knew. One whiff of Jayden’s sweat, and I knew. Jayden, for whatever reason, has yet to figure things out. It’s been interesting.

“Hey, Mr. Starling, right? I’ve got five for you.”

He’s a terrible flirt. Margie’s been telling me. She also insists the kid is really just naïve as fuck. But he’s standing in my office doorway, breathing deep as he takes in every telltale scent my body gives off as he looks around. And he’s just smiling that lazy, confident smile he’s had since the first day I saw him. I have to say, I like it.

I don’t bother answering. I want to see what he’ll do. I’m a busy guy, and believe me, wasting my time not only wastes a ton of money, but jeopardizes the lives of every man, woman, and child in my very extensive pack. We’re shifters. Wolf. A few canine mutts, but not many. I have the most powerful clan on the East coast. I am the most powerful man on the East coast. And when I turn into a wolf, I am quite literally the top dog. Alpha. Packleader. Protector, warrior, and businessman all rolled into one.

“You must have an allnighter planned to need so much coffee. I think I’d be on a caffeine buzz by just two of these.” He steps in, drinks balanced in a cardboard holder. I watch him out of the corner of my eye while I finish looking over my financial report on my laptop. He hesitates a foot from my desk. I can feel him looking at me, taking in my broad shoulders, large hands, sharp, predatory face. I’m a silver wolf, and my hair matches. Combined with my ice blue eyes, and deep tan, I get a lot of stares. More so when my clothes are off. But he’s a slut, and he’s not subtle.

“The desk is fine,” I say when he continues to stand there. His hands have the slightest of tremors when he places the coffee down. Not naïve. Or at least, not anymore. I’ve got an Alpha’s voice. Low, seductive, and all power. I glance over my computer at him, and he’s stuck. Just like that. Gotta say, it’s good to be king. A couple of words, one hard stare, and a pretty thing like Jayden can’t move his legs.

“How many more people are waiting for drinks?” I ask, watching his pupils dilate from the sound of my voice. He’s hotter up close. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing jeans in my multibillion-dollar setup. Jayden’s lower ranks, and he’s got nice thighs, so I’m going to let it slide.

“Um, twenty or so…” He trails off, exhaling loudly as his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. He’s having a hard time. I have that effect on shifters. He’s close enough to smell my musk, and he’s pretty much jelly.

“I suggest you get going.” Or he’s going to stand here staring at me until he dies of starvation, or I leave.

He swallows, my eyes drawn to the way his throat convulses. Sweat is just starting to prickle on his brow, and he’s wafting a very enticing sex scent. “Right… I should, um, get back to work. Enjoy your coffee.”

I flash him a smirk, revealing a hint of fang. “I don’t drink coffee, Jayden.”

He swallows again, this time because he’s trying to figure out why I know his name. I’m an alpha. The Alpha. Only a few reasons I’d give a fuck to know my coffee guy’s name when I don’t drink coffee. His feet backpedal slowly, lovely gold eyes still caught in mine. Yeah, he’s something worth looking at. “Ah, well, you have enough to bathe in… so… yeah…”

Silently I watch him go. He practically collapses on Margie’s desk. Silly, naïve little wolf.

I IM my five guys. They’re in my office drinking the coffee by the time Jayden makes his way back. No one gets through the top floor without passing my office door.

“Trev.” I don’t say anything else. Trevor takes a final sip of his coffee, tosses the cup in the trash, and goes to greet my pretty new bitch.

Jayden tries to play it cool. He’s smooth, polite, and still has work to do. Trevor grins and grabs him firmly by the nape of the neck. Gold eyes half obscured by heavy lids, Jayden allows himself to be walked into my office. Good boy.

“Door?”

“Open.” It’s still work hours, and I might be needed.

Things have changed in my office since Jayden was last here. The most impressive would be the five muscular young men lounging on the leather couch that takes up two walls of the large space. I’m quick with introductions. Freddie heads Research and Development. Hans runs Accounting. Trevor’s my Vice, Sean my Junior Partner, and Liam’s my Marketing god. My guys call me Galvin, but Jayden will be referring to me only as Alpha. He will call them each Sir.

The guys give Jayden a polite hello while my coffee guy sways on his feet, his cheeks growing flushed from all the testosterone in the air. I hang with other alphas. They’re not rivals; they’re loyal. Useful for keeping my business running smoothly, and we all have similar interests. Jayden just nods, his lips parted as he begins to pant. Coffee guy has a very nice mouth.

I look at Trevor, who still has his hand on Jayden’s neck. “Strip him.”

“Oh, fuck.” Eyes widening, Jayden falls to his knees the instant he’s released. We’re off to a good start.

Mitch is a total pervert. Hardcore. Seriously, it’s the second time he’s dared someone to suck his fingers, and if the first time watching Jenna do it wasn’t awkward enough, now he’s looking at my lips while smirking like a total jackass. I know I have a pretty face, but fuck, I’m sick and tired of guys treating me like some fucking girl.

“You can always pick truth,” Jenna offers, looking at me sympathetically.

I can’t. There’s no way I can pick truth. Every time Mitch has gotten a truth he’s asked if the person was a virgin, and there’s no way in hell I’m admitting to that. At least Jake and Dave stepped out to get some soda. The last thing I need is my best friend seeing me sucking Mitch’s fingers like I’m some sort of slut. Bad enough Jenna and Chris are here.

“You chicken, Sullivan?” Mitch asks, his grin only growing as I glare at him. What an asshole.

“You just better have washed your hands,” I mutter, glaring at the offending digits. They look clean enough, nails short with no dirt underneath. Might have some potato chips on them, but that won’t be the end of the world. I just really wish he’d stop looking at me like I’m about to suck his dick.

“Ask Jenna; my fingers are nice and clean.”

I glance over to Jenna, who just shrugs at me. Considering how she’d been grinning the entire time she was sucking on his fingers, I have a feeling she’s too slutty to actually care. This is what I get for hanging with the college kids. They’re Dave’s friends, and Dave is Jake’s brother, so I really can’t make an ass of myself chickening out.

“And hey, if my fingers are dirty, I’m sure you can clean them off real nice,” Mitch adds casually, his brown eyes glinting wickedly from beneath his shaggy blond hair.

I’ve only just met Mitch tonight and I’m pretty sure I hate him.

I’m running out of time. Jake’s going to be back, and I really don’t want him to see this. I hold my hand out, expecting Mitch to give me his fingers so I can lick the stupid things. But the asshole just shakes his head, raising two up in front of my face.

“Open.”

I glare him down, then look over to Chris who has the stopwatch. “Not a second over three minutes. I’m not falling for that again.”

Chris just holds his hands up with an apologetic grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. Yeah, he’s an ass too.

“I think you’re stalling,” Mitch whispers, ducking his head closer to mine until he’s in my ear. “It’s just fingers, Sullivan. Not like I’m asking you to suck my cock.”

Fire rushing to my face, I grit my teeth. I totally hate him. He’s just saying that because he wants me to think about his dick while I’m doing this. The kid fucks anything on legs, guys and girls, and he’s just trying to freak me out because he knows I’m a virgin. Fuck him.

Letting out a soft breath, I reach forward, opening my mouth to quickly wrap around his stupid fingers so I can get this done already. He stops me with two words.

“Go slow.”

Glaring at his hand, I part my lips, slowly leaning the last inch forward and praying I manage to give him the plague in some magical fluke of cosmic retribution.

My mouth is really wet by the time I actually feel the two fingers. He’s halfway in my mouth when he touches my tongue. I can’t help but gasp from the feel of the firm pads of his fingertips, my tongue hollowing as I flinch away. Staring down resolutely at the holes in his jeans, I try not to make a noise as he rubs down the rough texture of my flesh, pushing into my building saliva and drawing forward to my wavering tip.

“Suck,” he orders lowly in my ear, his breath burning hot on my cheek.

I want to punch him. He’s trying to make me think about dick, I can tell just by the way he said it. Glaring straight ahead, I tighten my lips reluctantly, doing my best not to feel just how hot and damp his fingers are getting while in my mouth. Tentatively I try to suck around his fingers, my tongue hollowing again and inadvertently caressing against the digits. God, I hate him.

“Harder than that… Good. You’re not bad, Sullivan.” Smirking against my ear, he adds mockingly. “You do this a lot?”

He’s an absolute asshole. Like I go around sucking fingers, or dick—Cus he’s totally really saying that. What a total sick perv, and I can’t even tell him off because he has his fingers in my mouth.

My saliva is building too much, flooding the back of my throat, and I have to swallow or something even more embarrassing will happen. I try to do it in a way he won’t notice, moving my mouth as little as possible. But he still grunts, still pushes his fingers deeper when my throat and tongue convulse. I refuse to meet his eyes. I’m not Jenna. I’m not some slutty chick that just smiles and sucks fingers like I really want it to be dick. I’m a guy, and I just have to wait this fucking dare out.

Mitch isn’t content to let me just sit with his fingers in my mouth. He starts moving, sliding them in and out between my clinging lips, his knuckles rough and tugging at my flesh. Brows furrowed, I breathe heavier out my nose, refusing to acknowledge what he’s doing. It’s not the same. They’re just fingers. I have no plans on sucking a dick anytime in the future, and this is not like sucking dick, no matter how much he’s panting in my ear like a dog right now.

“Fuck, you’re really tight.” His other hand suddenly tangles in my shoulder length blond hair, pushing my head back roughly. I almost open my mouth to complain, but just manage to stop myself. There can’t be more than a minute left, right? Two, tops. Just got to endure the salty taste of his fingers, the firm, rough feel of his flesh a little longer, and it’ll be done.

He pulls my hair harder, and I can’t help it, I whimper. He sighs in my ear like I’m doing it for him, the creep, and pushes his fingers even deeper, moving down my tongue and reaching into my throat.

“That’s it… Fuck, you’re not even gagging. I think you’re a natural.”

Fucking pervert. It’s uncomfortable, my lips stretching wide over his knuckles, my throat convulsing as I fight not to cough. I struggle harder to pull air in, hating how hot his breath is as he suffocates me inside and out.

“Can you take it deeper?” Fuck, I should bite him. “Open your mouth nice and wide, and take me deeper, cutie.”

His fingers scrape the back of my throat and my mouth opens wide as I gasp and choke, spilling hot fluid down my lips and chin. He grabs the nape of my neck, groaning in my ear. When I’m done coughing, his fingers are going deeper before I can protest, his hand keeping me from moving away.

“Fuck, you can really take it deep. We should talk, Sullivan. For real. I think we could be good fucking friends.”

I’d give anything to be able to tell him to fuck off right now. But he’s rubbing my tongue again, trying to make me choke. Saliva is running down my chin, tickling cold on my throat, and I can’t even wipe it away as he thrusts his fingers, making sure to push into my bottom lip each time.

It’s suffocating, and hot, and I can’t help but wonder if this is what it actually feels like to have a dick in your mouth. But a dick is totally bigger, with that slick, swollen head. It would probably fill my entire mouth, probably wouldn’t get so deep. No, this is nothing like that, and he needs to stop grunting in my fucking ear.

“Thirty seconds. Better make them count,” Chris says cheerfully.

I fucking hate Chris; all of Dave’s friends suck. I wish Jake didn’t hang out with his older brother so much. Dave’s a jerk most of the time to me, and apparently his friends are too.

“You’re doing real good. Damn, you’ve got some really red lips, Sullivan. I think I know what my next dare is going to be.” His hand clutching the base of my skull, I can only groan in protest when Mitch’s tongue suddenly licks over my lips. Sick fucking perv.

God, it’s almost over. I know I’m gasping to breathe and everyone can see how red my face is. I close my eyes, hoping to block out Mitch’s cruel grin, trying to ignore his tongue following his fingers as he pushes into my mouth. I can’t help it. I groan again, louder, trying to turn away.

“Mitch, leave the kid alone,” Jenna snaps.

“Make me.” Humming, his tongue moves up the side of my face as he pushes his fingers deep into my throat again. I’m a mess, mortified and can’t breathe around his fingers like I could earlier. He likes it, grunting as he pushed deep in small thrusts. I choke around him, hot tears slipping from beneath my lashes.

“Yeah, we should have some fun, Sullivan,” he rasps into my ear. “I think you’ll like it. I can show you how to swallow something down much thicker than just fingers.”

My groan sounds like a gurgle as he pulls me close and takes my slick bottom lip and holds it tight between his teeth. He bites down, hard, and I gasp, coughing the same moment Chris calls the time and Mitch pulls his fingers from my mouth. I immediately shove him away, hunching forward when I can’t stop hacking.

Asshole. He’s an absolute asshole and I totally hate him.

“What do you say, Sullivan? Wanna meet me in the backyard for a few minutes?” He asks with a shit-eating grin.

Wiping my chin dry with my wrist, I stumble to my feet. “Go fuck yourself.”

I turn, determined to go home and never visit Jake’s again when his brother has friends over, only to stop short. Jake and Dave are standing in the doorway, both of them staring at me with stunned expressions.

How long have they been there? I hadn’t heard anything, but once Mitch had his fingers down my throat I really couldn’t notice much of anything else. I duck my head, hating how flushed I feel with Jake staring at me like that.

“Get out of the way,” I mutter, wincing from how hoarse my voice sounds.

Jake quickly steps back like he’s terrified I’m going to hit him. Good. He should be. I hate Mitch and I hate Jake for inviting me over here. I push past Dave, who’s still staring at me slack-jawed as his eyes move down my body. Fuck him.

“Wait—He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Jake follows after me. “I’ll have Dave beat the crap out of him, swear. Shit, just wait.”

Stopping short at the outer door, I turn, glaring at him in exasperation. “I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

“Oh… Well, let me walk you, at least,” Jake offers hesitantly.

He’s staring at my mouth. My best friend of eight years is just standing there, staring at my mouth, and I know he’s thinking of what it would look like if his dick was in it. I fucking hate Mitch.

“I don’t suck dick.”

Blinking, red rushes to his cheeks. “I-I never said…”

“You’re staring at my mouth the same way that asshole was,” I snap, flinching as my voice cracks. Fuck. Turning, I push outside into the night air. Jake eventually follows, catching up to my fast pace to walk beside me.

“I’m sorry. I just—Shit, you didn’t see what you looked like.” I glare at him from the corner of my eye. He’s so not fucking helping himself here.

“I don’t suck dick.”

He grabs my arm, holding it tight until I stop walking and glare at him properly. “Yeah, but maybe you really should.”

My hands tighten into fists. I’m two seconds from slugging him. “I will fucking kill you if you ever say something like that to me again.”

“You looked hot. Really fucking hot.” The fucker didn’t even have the decency to blush.

“Fuck you.” I go to leave, but he holds onto my arm. He’s taller than me, stronger, and when I try to wrench free, Jake pulls me back hard enough that I stumble and crash against his chest.

“Come on, B. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He’s got to be out of his fucking mind. I’m so stunned, I stop trying to elbow him. “What, are you telling me you’ve… you’ve sucked dick?”

Blushing, he looks away. “Not exactly.”

“Because if you’re talking about Mitch’s fingers, it’s not the same fucking thing, you asshole. I don’t do that—And don’t you dare fucking say I should,” I add warningly.

He’s quiet for a long moment, but he won’t let go of my arm. I never really noticed just how blue his eyes are. Even in the dark, they damn near glow.

“Just try it, B. Just once… Just me.” Staring me right in the eye, he grabs me by the chin, his thumb moving over my bruised bottom lip. “You looked really good.”

“Don’t,” I whisper weakly, trying to step back and get away from the crazy heat that seems to be coming from every spot he’s touching me. “I don’t…” He has my chin caught and I have this heart pounding, almost certain feeling he’s going to kiss me.

His other hand moves to my wrist, pulling my arm down until it’s trapped hot between our bodies. “Just a little. Just to see if you like it.”

He’s been hanging out with his asshole brother too much. “There is no way in fuck—Oh.”

He’s hard. His hips move again, his hand holding my palm steady so he can rub his erection into it. Holy fuck.

“You might like it,” he murmurs, pulling me closer, his lips brushing my mouth ever so lightly. “I’ll be nice about it… Let you go at your own pace. I would never hurt you, B.”

I exhale unsteadily, my mouth feeling really wet again, like right before Mitch’s fingers touched my tongue. “Jake… This is fucking weird.”

I should tell him to fuck off. I should hit him, and tell him to fuck off, and never, ever, ever talk to him again. But I can’t stop looking at the way his jeans are tented. And when he lets my palm go so he can pull his zipper down, I don’t step away.

“Get on your knees, B.”

I swallow hard, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “Why?” I manage to croak out.

“You know why.” His hand moves from my chin to the side of my face, raking through my long hair. “Seeing you like that got me so hot. It won’t take long. You don’t even have to swallow if you don’t want.”

He’s crazy. Absolutely crazy. But my feet just won’t fucking move. I hear a rustle of fabric and my gaze falls again. Yeah, so that’s what he looks like hard. Bigger than I thought. Really nothing at all like fingers.

“Get on your knees.”

It’ll be fast, right? I mean, he’s really hard, and… And fuck, it might not be that bad. It’s Jake, and he’s hard over me… And he’s big. Probably wouldn’t get as deep as Mitch’s nasty fingers.

Eyes caught on the way his hand is moving over the underside of his shaft, I don’t notice right away when he pushes down my shoulder. It’s not until he puts more pressure on me, my knees swaying, that I realize what I’m doing. My breath stuck somewhere in my throat, I slowly sink to the ground.

Sage had managed to get to school without Corey waking up, his brother having stumbled in drunk some time around dawn and promptly falling asleep. School had been difficult, impossible to concentrate with so many thoughts running through his head never mind feelings through his body. The shifter had not been in the alley. Sage had checked. He wasn’t even sure why just that he had to know that Heller was really gone. Whether he wanted the man to still be there or not, Sage still wasn’t sure. His body was aching and he couldn’t stop thinking about the night before.

Taylor was waiting for him after school, soft ash blond hair and bright blue eyes setting him apart from the others. Taylor was a really odd kid, looking very much sweet and weak and even shorter than Sage was. But the boy was vicious when he needed to be, a switch inside his friend that turned Taylor into a wild, angry thing that would defend himself and friends at any cost. That was how they had become friends to begin with.

Sage had seen the boy being picked on and gone to help, only to be as surprised as the bullies to find that Taylor was plain crazy, biting and punching back with a rock in his fist. He had burst out laughing, seeing such a sweet looking kid go nuts and win. Bullies always underestimated him too, and it just seemed right to hang with Taylor after that.

“You get home alright last night?” Taylor asked, slipping in step with Sage, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans. “I wish you had let me go with you. You know how I worry.”

Sage nodded mutely, not sure what he wanted to tell his friend just yet. He was in trouble, he knew that much. His body was aching, each step he took making his hole throb in memory and unceasing want.

“Sage… you kinda smell, man,” Taylor said, glancing over at him. “And not a garbage smell from the Wastes. Something musky, almost.” He stopped, grabbing the brunette’s hand when the boy tried to walk by him. “What are those marks on your neck?”

Sage ducked away, covering his neck. His flesh had only gotten darker as he slept, bruises blossoming purple in the morning light. “Shit, is it really noticeable?”

“That someone’s been sucking on your neck? Yeah, it fucking is. What the hell happened last night?”

“Oh god, Corey’s going to kill me,” Sage gasped frantically, eyes wide in fear. “Literally kill me. Tayls, I need makeup or some shit. I need to hide this. You know how he gets—He’s going to slice me up so bad, I’ll never move again!”

“Calm down, Sage. Just stop and breathe.” Looking around at the students in the distance, Taylor pulled his friend down the street, heading for his neighborhood. “Start at the beginning and we’ll figure out how to fix it.”

Sage nodded weakly, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Tayls… do werewolves ever… fuck people on the full moon?” He asked quietly, staring at his sneakers.

Taylor stopped walking, scratching the back of his head. “Umm… why do you…?”

Sage ducked his head, edging closer to whisper into the blond’s ear. “When they’re transformed, do they ever… fuck people?” He asked again, blushing brightly.

“I don’t…” Taylor glanced around, speaking quietly. “Yeah, I think so. Not something I’ve seen firsthand, or anything, but they talk about it sometimes. I guess there are some people that really, er, like it.”

“What about shifters?” Sage asked, fidgeting under his friend’s stare.

“Do werewolves fuck shifters?” Taylor asked, looking confused.

“No… damn it.” Sage got right into Taylor’s ear, feeling the blond shiver from his breath. “Do transformed shifters screw a lot of people?”

“Um… maybe? There was this girl once, sister to one of the shifters. The gang had said things about her. About her letting dogs do her and stuff. Why? Did you see something last night?” Taylor stepped back, looking Sage over cautiously. His friend looked different, his already pale skin nearly translucent, lips flushed a deep red, green eyes bright and glowing.

Sage had always been kind of pretty, singled out for his delicate features and slender form. The kid was tough with a terrible brother that kept most bullies away just by existing, but Taylor had taken it on himself to protect Sage as much as he could. The boy was just so nice, stuck in a bad situation with his brother and was the most loyal friend a guy could want. Seeing the brunette now, he had to wonder if maybe Sage might have been getting a different sort of attention looking the way he did.

Glancing around nervously, Sage pulled Taylor into a blind alley, making sure no one was walking by or that any windows were open. “I… I don’t know how to say this,” he mumbled, rocking from foot to foot. “It’s really, really fucked up and… and I don’t know if…”

“Just say it,” Taylor demanded, grabbing Sage by the shoulders. “I don’t care, just tell me. Was it Corey? Did he kill one of them?”

Sage shook his head, fingers tangling in his hair as he tugged his chocolate locks in frustration. “I met a shifter.”

Eyes widening, Taylor pressed his hand over the brunette’s mouth, looking around the alley to make sure that no one was definitely there. “Are you fucking serious? Did he hurt you?”

Sage bit his lip, unable to meet his friend’s concerned gaze. “A little… I don’t think he meant to. There’s something wrong with me, Tayls. I think someone might have, have cursed me or something.”

“Why would you…? Just tell me what happened,” Taylor muttered, ducking his head so his friend could whisper in his ear. Blue eyes widening in shock, Taylor began to curse under his breath as Sage poured out the events of the last night in halting sentences. “Holy fuck, Sage. Shit… Shit! How did you even go to school after that? How are you just fucking standing there and not fucking freaking out or something? He—Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t yell.” Taylor stepped away, kicking the nearest thing he could find, a soda can clattering loudly down the pavement.

Sage continued to tug at his hair agitatedly, watching Taylor’s sneakers as the blond paced. “I gotta find a way to hide the marks, Tayls,” he whispered, flinching when the blond reeled and turned on him.

“You’ve just been fucking raped!” Taylor covered his mouth, glaring at the entrance to the alley. Ducking his head, he whispered furiously into Sage’s ear. “You should go to a doctor. Make sure he didn’t give you something. Who the fuck knows what kinds of diseases shifters have?”

Sage just shook his head, his anxiety growing. “If I go to a doctor, they’ll want to talk to Corey. The shifter is not the issue right now. If Corey finds out, I’m fucking dead!”

“He wouldn’t—Would he? Is he that fucked up that…” Taylor trailed off, eyes closing. Corey was that fucked up. He wouldn’t care how or why, just that Sage had been tainted by a shifter.

“Please, Tayls, I don’t know what to do,” Sage pleaded softly, watching the emotions swirl on his friend’s face. “There’s something wrong with me. The shifter said I had a scent that made him that way. And Corey smelled me last night and you just did now. I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay. Okay, we’re going to fix this. I just… just have to ask for help.” Taylor looked at his friend warily, again taking in the brunette’s strangely beautiful features. Whatever had changed in his friend, it wasn’t just the odd, musky scent. He looked different too, possibly magically different. “First we’re going to get you a hoodie to cover you up. I got something big at home you can wear. And then… then I’m going to call Jared,” he added under his breath.

“But Jared’s a werewolf,” Sage said fretfully.

“Yes, and werewolves know magic,” Taylor replied as evenly as possible, trying to ignore the feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. “So if you’ve really been cursed to… to make shifters want to do that… Well, he’ll be able to help.”

Fidgeting, Sage eventually nodded, letting Taylor grasp his arm and lead him towards his house. “Just… we can’t tell Corey. If he finds out that I’m talking to a werewolf… I already get in trouble because you talk to them.”

“I know, Sage, and I’m sorry about that. We’re going to disguise you so no one will know it’s you.”

Taylor’s mom had once had a fling with a werewolf, the man passing through their lives very briefly. But Taylor had been drawn to the lifestyle the werewolves had led while they were dating, never having to worry about anyone preying on his family or trying to cheat his mom out of her hard earned money and house. Taylor had figured if he were a werewolf, maybe he could protect his family the same way.

“He won’t… he won’t think I want to be one, right?” Sage whispered, Taylor unlocking the door to the small house he lived in and quickly jostling the brunette inside.

“I’ll let him know, not that it matters. They have so many damn hoops you have to jump through,” Taylor said bitterly. “Jared says they won’t even consider me until I’m twenty-five—Which is fucking bullshit because I’ve seen way younger than me. But that’s Frey for you. He’s one of the better pack leaders and has rules like that to keep from being totally terrible like the other gangs.”

Taylor left Sage drinking a glass of orange juice in the kitchen while he rustled up a large, black sweatshirt out of his closet. Grabbing a toothpick, he chewed on it mindlessly while looking around his room. His eyes fell on a pair of sunglasses on his bureau and he quickly snatched them, bringing both downstairs to his friend.

Sage dressed while Taylor used his special cellphone to contact Jared. There would be no way the werewolf would come to his house. It just wasn’t smart, even with Ms. Hunt out and working at the hospital. Taylor’s mom was not a fan of what her son had been slowly getting into, having seen firsthand the consequences of the werewolf gangs and the people that tried to cross them.

“Come on. He says he’ll meet us at The Den,” Taylor said abruptly, pocketing his phone. Sighing, he pulled the hood over Sage’s hair. “I know it’s hot out, but you have to stay covered so you won’t be recognized.” Taylor didn’t bother mentioning that he’d run across way too many fucked up werewolves that would think someone as pretty as Sage was fair game. Jared was his sponsor, protecting him from any ill attention even though he wasn’t officially in with Frey’s pack yet. Another perk with joining a proper werewolf pack and not some bunch of fucked up creeps that thought just because they could transform on the full moon they could hurt anyone they liked.

Sage let Taylor pull him out of the house, his head spinning, stomach tight with anxiety as they headed for the bus. He had made a point to avoid the werewolves; after nearly being murdered by one as a child, Sage really didn’t trust any of them. Taylor was the only reason he was even considering this, and mostly because his friend was as street smart as they came. If Taylor thought the werewolves were his only chance to fix whatever had happened to him, then Sage was willing to give it a shot.

Sage ran faster, his blood roaring in his ears. Beneath the sound of his heart frantically beating, he could hear it still; claws clicking on cement. It was dark and he had waited too long to go home after leaving his friend Taylor’s. His blond friend had offered to walk with him, but that would have just left Taylor to walk home alone at an even later, more dangerous hour. Sage’s brother would never let someone like Taylor stay at their place overnight, not when the boy hung out with the werewolves.

There was a loud huff, then a growl. Green eyes widening, Sage caught sight of an off shoot, an alleyway connecting streets together. If he could get over to Washington St. where the bars and bright lights were, he might be okay. As if reading his thoughts, there was a low howl, chilling and hungry. It made his knees weak and Sage stumbled to a halt. Dimly he realized that no other voices had raised to join the cry. The shifter was alone, stalking him down without a pack.

Oh god, what was wrong with him? He felt so hot all of a sudden. Not just from the running, but from the sound of the wolf, blue eyes glowing out of the darkness as it panted. “L-Leave me alone,” Sage said weakly, stepping back away from the intense stare. “I’m not… I’m not a werewolf. Your kind are supposed to be able to smell that. I’m just a guy… so leave me alone.”

He had reached the alley, brick rubbing his shoulder coarsely as he turned and nearly barreled backward, just catching the corner to keep from falling. His shoulder ached from how his arm had wrenched. And something else… Something else ached inside him, his legs shaking and feeling heavy. The shifter kept approaching, head low, a dark shadow stalking forward.

Sage knew it was a shifter and not a real wolf. Real wolves didn’t get as big. Something about the magic that allowed shifters to transform into animals also made them look more beautiful than the real creatures out of nature. The black wolf was otherworldly in appearance, silky looking blue-black fur and ice blue eyes. It was looking at him almost as if trying to figure out what he was, nose scenting the air.

Biting his lip, Sage hesitantly held his hand out. Once the shifter smelled him, he would know he wasn’t a werewolf. The shifters and werewolves didn’t get along. Dogtowne was the border where both packs fringed. The name was ironic given that any real dog had been killed off by the cursed werewolves years ago. The werewolves liked to kill the shifters, and the shifters liked to kill them back. Hopefully hanging around with Taylor hadn’t gotten too much werewolf smell on him. Taylor wasn’t a werewolf but he wanted to be.

“Stop!” Sage gasped, the wolf loping up to him and reaching its terrible fangs right at his hand. But the boy had held his hand out, something the shifter recognized enough to approach.

It was so much bigger close up. Sage was small even though full grown, slender and wiry-limbed from never getting a full meal. With his messy chocolate hair and bright green eyes, he was constantly being mistaken for much younger. The wolf stretched out nose to tail tip would likely be as tall as him and much heavier and stronger. Swallowing nervously, Sage raised his hand again, watching his thin fingers shake. The wolf pressed its large maw to his hand, breathing deeply, a low whine falling from its mouth.

Sage had only ever seen one other shifter up close. He had been a wolf too, bright white fur, maybe the same size of this one or even larger. A long time ago when Sage had been just a child, his parents were killed by warring werewolf packs. He had run, a transformed werewolf chasing after him, humanoid and muscular with terrible claws and slavering jaws. Everyone knew werewolves ate children during the full moon and Sage had not wished to be a meal.

He hadn’t known if the white wolf had come to save him or to just kill a werewolf. The shifter had died, the injured werewolf lurching and staggering away while the wolf bled out. Sage had cried, watching the fluffy fur stained scarlet turn into a tall, powerful looking man, blood pouring from his throat. He had been beautiful, long white-blond hair and pale eyes. His skin had nearly been as white as the wolf’s fur.

He had tried to help the shifter, but Sage’s brother had found him. Corey had screamed at him for going near such a filthy, horrible monster and pulled him away. Corey didn’t care that the shifter had saved Sage. He hated all of them, shifters and werewolves.

Staring at the icy eyes of the dark creature still sniffing his hand and wrist, Sage wondered what the man looked like. They were all males, the shifter gene stuck on the Y-chromosome. Not all men were shifters, but all shifters were male. They were also usually very handsome, or so Sage had been told. The shifters didn’t come into the city as people. The werewolves could smell what they were and would hunt them down quick enough. Moving as a wolf was much faster.

“S-See? I told you I wasn’t a werewolf,” Sage stammered, foot slipping back to creep away. The wolf growled at him, the boy freezing and biting his lip. What if the rumors were true? What if the shifters were just as terrible as the werewolves and if they got hungry enough they might just eat a person?

Sweat trickled down his neck. The wolf didn’t look particularly skinny, more compact muscle and nicely kept fur. But maybe it was just well fed on stupid humans that didn’t know better than to wait until daylight to travel?

Sage cautiously peeked over his shoulder. There was a large dumpster blocking most of his view. Only as far as two towering apartment buildings away were city lights, neon and garish. If he ran for them, he might make it. The shifter wouldn’t risk being around a huge population. The werewolves roamed at night, partying with their human crew of gangsters. Surely the shifter would avoid a bar full of both.

Decided, heart slamming in his chest, Sage turned and ran. He made it about three feet before he tripped, blind to the black plastic bag of trash that had been right by his foot. He fell heavily, the concrete jarring his bones, everything spinning for frantic, dizzy minutes. “Shit—Oh fuck, get off me,” he whimpered, the wolf growling and biting the collar of his shirt, paws and a great weight pinning him hard to the ground by his shoulders.

Sage felt so hot and dizzy. There was something wrong with him, some sort of fever. There was a musky, strange smell around him that had nothing to do with the garbage only feet away. He thought maybe it was the wolf. The creature was tearing at his shirt with its vicious teeth, pulling a long slash down the fabric, a ripping noise loud in his ears.

It was going to eat him. Peel his clothes off and eat him like a bag of dog food. As if to validate the terrifying thought, the wolf began to lick over Sage’s exposed back, its slippery pink tongue lapping down, stealing the spots of blood its claws had caused while it continued to stand on top of him. Sage should have been terrified but there was something wrong with him at the moment. His body felt so hot, so achingly tight and hard. He woke up some mornings, heated dreams fading where he felt like this. He had never felt it while awake. He could be dreaming… that would make more sense.

“Oh god… please stop,” Sage groaned, teeth nipping at his shoulder and shooting fire through him. He shouldn’t like this. It was a shifter and a male. Sage wasn’t supposed to like guys… or wolves. “Oh… oh hell…” The tongue moved lower, down his back, licking the dip of his waist and leaving trails of wet on his skin. He wondered if it would go lower—If he should help the shifter get his jeans off so it would lick even lower.

Eyes squeezed shut, Sage silently cursed himself. He shouldn’t want that. What kind of freak wanted that? God, he was so hard, though.

While he fought with his body’s confusing desires, the shifter nipped at his waistband, sinking teeth in and pulling his jeans down. They were too tight, Sage gasping with each tug of fabric that pulled snug on his erection. He was going crazy. Shifters might eat a person, but they didn’t fuck them. At least, he didn’t think they did. His brother had suggested something disgusting along the lines of it, but Corey always said gross stuff about sex. The man thought everything about sex was filthy, including wanting it. Sage was, unfortunately, feeling very filthy at the moment.

Unable to hold back any longer, he reached down, fighting with the clasp of his jeans and unbuttoning them one handed. He unzipped slowly, the wolf stilling as he heard the metal teeth unfurl. Panting, Sage raised his hips when the shifter tugged again, the heavy fabric giving way, pulling down his narrow hips and then slender thighs with each wrench and snarl, leaving his exposed flesh stinging on the rough concrete. God, what was he doing?

A hard nose pressed against his ass, his briefs the only protection from the hot snuffles and sharp teeth. The shifter was smelling him, down his crack, pushing between his cheeks, breathing in the musk of his balls. Sage bit his lip hard, trying to keep from moaning with each touch. Maybe this was all it wanted. Just to smell him and learn whatever the hell it was canines learned from sniffing each other. That Sage was getting hard, his cock dripping precum was really just something fucked up with him.

It was apparently not enough, the wolf huffing and nipping at the thin material of his underwear, stretching it from the boy’s golden skin. It got his briefs halfway down his thighs, the material snagging on the front around Sage’s embarrassingly hard dick. The nose returned with prickling whiskers and damp heat, nuzzling and wedging between his pert cheeks with clear intent. Sage could not stop from crying out loudly, his hips jolting forward.

“Why are you…? Oh god… that’s bad… really, really bad,” Sage mumbled mindlessly, the slippery tongue delving, tasting his bare ass and sac, sliding around to lap at his hard cock. Then it wiggled between his cheeks and lighted over the pucker of his hole. “It’s dirty… so dirty,” he whispered, his face and neck bright red. But it felt so good.

Corey had promised to beat him if he ever masturbated like some degenerate, freak pervert. His older brother used to beat Sage whenever he caught him getting hard. Sometimes even doing stuff to hurt him that made him hard and then punishing him for it after. Only sick freaks liked that. Corey still did that sometimes, usually after getting drunk and extra mean. Sage still couldn’t stop from getting hard, just showing how fucked up he was.

The tongue kept moving, nose pushing relentlessly against his crack, spreading his cheeks wider as it slipped over his entrance again and again. The wolf nosed lower, pushing at Sage’s thighs, forcing him up onto his knees while the boy’s slender legs trembled. Then again, slipping deep between his cheeks, tasting him more from the new angle, dripping trails of saliva down his pale inner thighs.

“D-Don’t—You shouldn’t… oh fuck—Oh fuck, you’re gonna…” Sage sobbed weakly, realizing what was coming next. He was surrounded by silky fur, black and suffocating as it rubbed on his bare back, ass and thighs. The wolf settled heavily on his sloped torso, paws clutching his narrow, heaving chest. Sage could feel hot splatters of liquid, each hump of the wolf’s hard cock adding another stream of wet to his thighs and ass.